Screenshots of Life
by splishims
Summary: This is a collection of oneshots and such with varying genres. Some may be continued, some may not. It depends on if I feel like it or if the story demands so. Will be mostly Shinichi and Kaito interaction, though might have other characters as well.
1. Hiccups

_A/N: Apologies to anyone reading this who's been waiting for another chapter of __**Silence**__. I've kinda hit a brick wall for that one, but I'm working on chiseling away at it. Sorry it's taking so long._

_Anyway, I got the hiccups last night and this just popped into my head and demanded to be written. It's my first KaiShin __**ever**__, and my first kissing scene. So if you could please leave any pointers and such for improving my writing, I would be very appreciative. Thanks!_

Screenshot 1: Hiccups

Kaitou Kid stood at the edge of the roof, his back facing the stairwell door as he waited for his unshrunken favorite detective. He'd placed enough traps to be sure it would be Shinichi to make it to the top, not Hakuba or Nakamori-keibu. The thief was not disappointed as his well trained hearing picked up the muffles and quick but wary footsteps heading up the stairs. But there was another noise with the footfalls, also muffled by the thick metal door.

Kid cocked his head only slightly, a mere quarter of an inch, in confusion. The position also allowed the thief a better chance to listen, his right ear now angled to catch softer noises. The door was finally wrenched open, leaving a panting, irritated Shinichi in the frame. Kid turned slowly, taking in the detective's appearance as he wracked his brain, trying to figure out why Shinichi looked so annoyed. It couldn't be the Kid, he'd done far worse in the past than he had tonight, and the detective hadn't been upset then. So why?

His thought process was interrupted when Shinichi's shoulders gave a violent jerk and a high-pitched squeak escaped the detective's throat. Shinichi looked mortified by the outburst, if the red on his cheeks and the hand covering his mouth as if to prevent any more traitorous noises from passing were anything to go by, and Kid couldn't suppress a chuckle.

Shinichi's eyes narrowed. "Problem, Kid?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his side. The seriousness in his tone would have had more effect, had his shoulders not jerked again as another squawk left his mouth.

"I think I should be asking you that," Kid replied smoothly. "After all, it seems _you're_ the one suffering a case of the hiccups."

The detective's face reddened further, his shoulders jumping as his diaphragm spasmed yet again, another hiccup jolting his frame. "Your point?"

"Have you tried to get rid of them?"

"Of course," Shinichi answered, glaring. "I've tried everything I could think of." Another jerk, another squeak.

"Everything?" Kid echoed, starting toward the detective.

Shinichi crossed his arm, eyeing the thief suspiciously. "Yes, everything."

"I bet I know something you haven't tried." He stopped in front of Shinichi, eyes shining.

A look of confusion was all the invite Kid needed, and he swiftly captured Shinichi's lips with his own. The detective gasped, his mouth opening slightly, and Kid took the opportunity that was presented to him, letting his tongue explore a bit before pulling away from the stunned detective.

"What the hell was that?" Shinichi's voice was low and slightly dumbfounded, just as Kid had expected.

"A kiss, of course," the thief chirped happily.

"I know that!" There was a pause. "I mean, why?"

Kaitou Kid chuckled, turning away from Shinichi and taking a few steps. "You're the detective," he said finally. "On a side note though, your hiccups are gone, aren't they?"

And with that the thief was gone, leaving a wide-eyed Shinichi alone on the rooftop.


	2. Panic

_A/N: I actually had this one written a month or so ago, saved in my 'DC Fanfiction' folder on my laptop. I had visions of continuing it, but my mind's drawing a blank. So if anyone's interested in continuing it, feel free to. I may continue it in the future if the plunnies attack me. Anyway, enjoy!_

Screenshot 2: Panic

_Don't panic, don't panic… Aw, dammit._ Shinichi turned just as more holes erupted in the wall ahead of him, evidence of the bullets that would have torn through him moments before. His feet pounded against the floor, legs growing heavier with exertion as he dashed down another hallway, eyes locked on the door to the stairwell. He was pushing it extremely close, he knew, but there wasn't anything else he could do. _Gin_ was right behind him, aiming for his life.

How'd he even get away from the FBI? He wondered, recalling the Organization's downfall months earlier. He'd seen to it that Gin was captured that night, with the combined use of his tranquilizer wristwatch, a soccer ball, and his kick shoes – only because it wasn't guaranteed that Gin would be much affected by the tranquilizer; it had nothing to do with pent-up anger at the blonde man, not at all.

So how had the assassin gotten away?

Puffs of plaster dust bloomed in his peripheral vision, reminding him that he didn't have time to muse over Gin's escape right now, that he was _running_ so that he could _live_ to think over those little details later. Which meant that he had to reach the stairwell at the end of the hallway – a hallway that seemed to be stretching longer and narrower just to taunt him.

Shinichi finally made it to the door, wrenching it open in a hurry. Pain exploded in his right shoulder and he heard the tell-tale zip of a silenced gunshot behind him. He stumbled, the door closing behind him with a low thud, thankfully blocking him from Gin's sight and the promise of more bullets.

There was no time to think as Shinichi began running down the stairs, taking two at a time. He heard the door above him open again and almost silent footsteps echoing in the small space. He made it to the landing of the floor below and bolted through the door, already looking for an escape route. Gin was smart, he knew that. The assassin wouldn't follow Shinichi and be always one step behind; he thought like a detective, would have a plan set up for a situation like this. The question was, what was it?

_EDIT: A few reviewers pointed out how this could be a sort of backstory type thing for 'Silence' and how Shinichi got in his situation in it. And I agree. So I've changed the shoulder Shinichi had shot from his left to his right, to tie it in with his injuries in 'Silence'. I'm actually in the process of writing a continuation for this that will be the ultimate link between the two. I've got it basically outlined, now it just needs written. And I need to fight with the dialogue. But it should be up shortly!_


	3. Idol

_AN: Seems I'm back from the dead, eh? [SORRY!] Just for a drop-off. Of the worst thing you'll read. But the idea made me giggle so I'm throwing it out there. Because I can. Sorry for the extended absence, if anyone is still wasting their time with me. Anyway, before I **really** start rambling, here ya go! ...Oh yeah, please review, but be kind? Don't kill me~_

* * *

Gin had always thought a Black Organization operative should possess certain qualities. Like a certain heartlessness. A clear willingness to kill; pure enjoyment of the deed was ideal. Some intelligence (though as evidenced by Vodka, this was not necessarily essential). And a calm, calculating demeanor.

He could admit, though he loathed the woman, even Vermouth had these qualities and more, as did other members of the Organization. However, this new recruit –

"Gin-sama!"

– had nothing, except a willingness to kill.

"Gin-sama, wait up!" the shrill feminine voice echoed along the hall. Gin winced, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the urge to turn and fire three shots into the girl's forehead. _Anokata_ said he couldn't kill this one. Not yet.

The annoyance caught up to him, breathing heavily as she stared at him starry-eyed. Gin could feel his eye beginning to tic. "What do you want?" he asked coldly, glaring at the girl. She just wouldn't take a hint!

"We should go get lunch together!" she cheered happily, latching onto Gin's arm.

He immediately jerked it away, hand going for his pistol and bringing it up to point sideways at her head. "Stay away from me," he said menacingly, glaring, before re-sheathing the weapon and turning and walking briskly down the hall. Maybe that would take care of her, make her leave him alone.

Apparently Lady Luck wasn't favoring him today.

"Gin-sama that was so cool!"

The girl trailed behind him, blabbering nonstop. Gin sighed, hand resting on his gun. He didn't care if _Anokata_ got angry with him at this point; he was going to kill the obsessing fangirl.


	4. Auction

Okay, so I somehow cranked this one out at 3am last night. Apologies for any mistakes and whatnot, and if it's not up to my usual standards (if I even had those before). I've gotten a little rusty from not writing as much as I'd like lately... Also, apologies for the super long absence, and for not being able to guarantee that it won't happen again.

But enough of my babbling. Here's what will be the next installment of _Screenshots!_

Oh, I'm putting the prompt I found for this at the bottom since it'd give too much away too soon if it were up here.

And as always, I am a poor college student and don't own anything like Detective Conan or Magic Kaito. I prefer to leave them in Gosho-sensei's very capable hands anyway. :)

Screenshot 4: Auction

Shinichi growled menacingly from the back corner of his cage, the sound low in his throat, as yet another person stuck their hand between the bars trying to touch him. His eyes flashed amber in irritation and his teeth sharpened into points as the new beast within him fought to break free. An instinct, that of a wild creature, now sang through his blood, urging him to get out of the cage, to _run_.

But the cage was strong, made of steel. The lock was intricate and secure, also made of steel and designed to withstand anything his "kind" could do to it. Shinichi didn't think even Kaitou Kid could pick this lock.

A loud clang sounded around him, echoing painfully in his now over-sensitive ears, and he flinched before glaring at the creator of the noise. The auctioneer, a short, wide man with beady black eyes, stood next to his cage holding a short metal pipe. Shinichi snarled before he could stop himself, feeling his body start to Shift.

The auctioneer held up the pipe as if to strike the metal bars again and Shinichi hesitated, willing himself to Shift fully back into a human, if only to avoid the painful sound.

"Good, good," the auctioneer cooed snidely, sneering at the caged boy before turning back to the crowd behind him. "See folks, he's still a bit wild but fully trainable, though I would suggest an _experienced_ handler." He paused, watching some of the newer buyers leave. "He played soccer a lot as a human so he is very healthy, and he is quite intelligent. You may actually know him from the newspapers and television for the many cases he's helped the police solve."

An excited hush fell over the crowd, their eyes flickering between the auctioneer and Shinichi as recognition set in.

"Yes, this is the Savior of the Japanese Police Force, the Heisei Holmes, Kudou Shinichi," the man's voice boomed. "He was Turned just a week or so ago, and now you have the once-in-a-lifetime chance to take him home!"

Another pause and Shinichi felt his heart skip a beat before his pulse started racing, the instinct deep within him willing him to Shift again. He was about to be _sold_! Like a piece of livestock! Shinichi swallowed harshly, fighting down the urge to change and lose himself, and listened.

"Again, I highly recommend experienced handlers for this one! Price starts at 175,000 yen!"

Immediately the air was filled with voices calling out amounts. Shinichi looked disbelievingly at the crowd. These people were actually going to buy and own a person's _life_?

But he wasn't classified as a "person" anymore, was he? He was an animal now, according to the law books. Ever since werewolves had been discovered and proven real, they'd been caught, sold, and treated as exotic pets.

Oh God, that was what he'd be now, wasn't it? Some rich person's rare, exotic _pet_, to have on display to impress their similarly wealthy acquaintances.

_How did this happen?_ Shinichi wondered as the prices for him kept going up. _Right, saving Ran from that murderer in the woods. That bastard nearly ripped my arm off with his teeth!_

The changes had started the next night, when Shinichi woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, furry and –

"Sold! 985,000 yen!"

* * *

Okay, so the prompt was "The ultra-wealthy keep werewolves as pets."

And this is what happened... I'm not _extremely _happy with it but it's getting me back into the swing of writing... Anyway, I'm not sure if this will just be a oneshot or if it'll be continued. It's definitely a challenge to write Werewolf!Shinichi believably. The conflict with Shinichi's morals and beliefs vs the werewolf in him...

But regardless, reviews are always appreciated! But please be nice? Constructive criticism is welcome, but there's no need for any attacks. ^^


	5. Life Is For The Living

_"Full" Author's Note at bottom, but I'm using this space to apologize in advance for this: I'M SORRY!  
_

Screenshot 5: Life Is For The Living

The night was quiet in its stillness, the only movement the fluttering of leaves as a cold wind brushed past them with a promise of coming snow. A lone figure stood at the edge of a playground in Beika Park, its form seeming smaller than it really was with an air of defeat.

The teenager stared at the playground, a distant, sad expression on his face as he hugged himself, arms crossed tightly over his torso in a defensive position. His cheeks burned cold in the night air, the frigid wind threatening to freeze over the glistening tear tracks on his skin.

He didn't care.

A faint rustle of fabric made Shinichi start slightly, shoulders giving a small jerk, but he made no move to turn or acknowledge his new companion in any way. It didn't concern him.

"Hey," the newcomer said, male voice soft and gentle. "You should really head home. You'll catch your death out here."

Not that Shinichi would mind that happening right now. With all that he'd lost lately, his life seemed rather inconsequential in comparison.

He'd lost everything he'd had left to live _for_.

"Come on, I'll walk you home." The newcomer tough Shinichi's shoulder, a sensation of warmth spreading through the detective's cold body from the light contact. "Which way?"

Shinichi let himself be led away from the playground and back onto the street. He gave murmured directions to his companion, though he had a nagging feeling that the other knew exactly where he was going and was, in fact, leading _him_. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

His companion paused, prompting Shinichi to stop as well, halting his scattered thoughts as he looked around to realize he was in front of his own house. That nagging feeling in the back of his mind once again suggested that the stranger knew where Shinichi lived beforehand, but its small influence was, once again, drowned in the detective's apathy. He numbly unlocked the gate and went to the front door, pausing hesitantly and turning to thank the stranger, but there was no one behind him.

Blinking, and deciding that it didn't matter, he turned back to his front door to find a paper taped on the wood, writing sprawled neatly on its white surface:

_Detective,_

_I know it's hard to lose those dear to you. Mouri Ran and the Shonen Tantei were wonderful people whose time came too soon.  
But you cannot stop living in response to their deaths. They wouldn't want it.  
And as much as it hurts to lose your loved ones, it hurts more to watch someone you love continue living as they themselves were dead.  
Please don't harden your heart. It will be difficult, yes, but you've got a lot of people who care deeply for you (myself included) and will always be there to listen when you want to talk, or sit in silence when you don't.  
Never forget the friends who care for you, Tantei-kun. We'll always be here for you, whether in the physical sense or in spirit. All you have to do is reach for the extended hand._

_Now, I assume you know how to get I touch with the others, so I'll just leave my own cell phone number. I believe I can trust you not to use it against me in the future._

_Also, when you feel more like yourself enough to attend one of my heists, you'll be gladly welcomed. They tend to be rather boring without you._

_Take care, Tantei-kun, and remember – you don't have to go through this alone._

At the bottom of the note was a phone number, a gently smiling Kid doodle underneath. A small splash of liquid hit the paper next to the caricature; he was crying again. His hand automatically reached up and wiped at his eyes, momentarily reducing the world to a blurry mess. Once clear, his gaze moved slowly away from the note to his doorknob, upon which a single blue violet was balanced.

Shinichi lifted the flower from its precarious position and held it close to his chest with the note. A small, grateful smile, the first smile in the four months since Ran and the Shonen Tantei had been killed, made its way onto his face. Maybe things did matter, after all.

"Thank you, Kid," he murmured, bowing his head in gratitude, though he wasn't sure if thief was still around to hear or see the gesture. Oh well, he'd just have to call him to thank him properly.

And with that thought, Shinichi headed inside, well aware that he wasn't quite alright yet but that he was on his way to be, thanks to Kid. The message had more than just comfort the grieving boy; it had given him the push he needed to start picking up the pieces of his life and begin rebuilding himself.

Thanks to Kid, the future seemed just a little bit brighter now.

_-fin-_

_A/N: Why is almost all I ever write angst and death and sadness? Why do I keep doing these things? [Maybe it's a result of stress? I do/did have 4 exams this week…]_

_Anyway, I did like how this started out (besides the angsty-death-sadness of course, because it made me cry while writing it – especially Kid's note), but toward the end I felt like I was forcing it more and more… And it morphed into what it is now. Oh well, it is what it is. Constructive criticism is very welcome, encouraged actually, but flames are not quite so welcome (though sometimes unavoidable, haha – and they do sometimes help point things out, even if in a more undesirable way). So review, please? So I can get better?_


End file.
